Candlelight
by Bobadoo
Summary: Ep. 7. At the abbey, a postulant and one of the men from Easy have a meaningful conversation. Sorry the summary is so terrible. I try.


This is just a little bit that I wanted to write for a long time. It may be corny but I like it. I think it's sweet but that's enough of my opinion. I'm bias.

**Author's Note: **Actually, I do own Band of Brothers. It sits on my shelf collecting dust while I watch its marathon on the History Channel. As for the story itself, well no, I don't own that. *sigh*

Enjoy!

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Candlelight **

One candle, its wick engulfed by a dancing fire so vulnerable that almost anything could snuff it out. At the same time though, its presence could lift the spirit of thousands or bring their hopes to a crashing end. It is the same with human life, a living metaphor if you will. I only wish that it was just one candle that my eyes beheld.

Eighty two were placed before me.

Eighty two lives lost from a single company, as the men call it, all in a war that should have never taken place. Then again, no wars should have ever happened but in a world like this, it is the unfortunate destiny. Almost hard to believe that all of this occurred because of a single bite from a fruit. If only Adam and Eve had known what would have befallen the earth because of their temptation.

A soldier approached me from the left, eyes fixed upon the glowing figures. Perhaps he needed to see how many they had lost. A number is nothing unless one can picture it.

His clothes were as ratty as the others. Dirt everywhere, holes torn into the sides. These men had been through the worst conditions the human mind can fathom and then some. It was amazing that more candles need not be lit. God had most certainly been watching them. If they knew it was the question.

"So you had enough candles." He observed, voice ragged and worn from the cold or sickness, I did not need to ask which.

"Yes." I replied, the corners of my mouth rising slightly as the attempt for better thoughts began. "If there is one thing the abbey has enough of, it is candles." His eyes made no reaction nor did his voice. I felt like a fool for making the small comment, for thinking that I could ever get the man to smile. After everything he and all the others had gone through, it would be a miracle if they ever did again.

We stood there a while, eyes fascinated by the moving beauty, faces warmed by their attendance but hearts longing for them to disappear. In the background sang the choir, mostly slow songs, happy and comforting. Most of the men would never know anyway but there was a certain feel about it that told them everything was going to be okay. They seemed to believe it, on the outside. Who knew what their hearts held.

"Your English is good."

Out of the blue questions were not too uncommon but I never actually got used to it. "Yes, I suppose it is. I…my parents sent me to school in England. I returned just in time for…" My voice trailed off, unsure of how to describe such a vivid situation I had been forced into.

"This?"

"Yes…in time for this." Sometimes the simplest of words were all you needed, especially when those you spoke to knew exactly what you were talking about. We sat in silence again until I gathered the courage to speak once more.

"Are they all…gone?" Dead was not an appropriate word for the time. It was one I wished to avoid for as long as I could.

He sighed, not wishing to talk about it. Perhaps I should not push him but my curiosity would not allow it. "No, not all…just a few. Not like they walked out on their own two feet though." For the first time, he looked at me. He looked…old. Worn from battle and death, the toll taken on him was unbelievable. Looking into his eyes, it was as though I could see everything that happened to him. He could no longer hide it.

A chill crept up my spine. I felt the urge to continue the conversation. "Did you know any of them?"

He blinked, breaking whatever spell that had fallen on us. "Enough to make it hurt." I nodded, understanding. We had lost at the abbey as well but I was not about to bring that up; it felt too selfish.

I sighed, feeling that the conversation was at its end. He should be alone. I would not be able to help him.

"I shall pray for them." I departed then, leaving the man to his thoughts.

In a separate corner of the church, I sat, mumbling every prayer that I had been taught since I was a little girl. Some were in German, others Latin, English or French; sometimes I combined languages. I wished to keep my mind off of the men in the other room. I did not want to know their despair, not anymore. I could no longer take it.

A shadow crossed over the light at my feet. My mumblings stopped. I looked up at my visitor. It was the man from before.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It is alright. I had said that prayer three times already. I do not believe repetition helps." He actually smiled at this; he sat down on the pew across from me and folded his hands as though he were about to pray. "Why are you here?"

The man glanced around the room, searching for an answer. "Honestly I can't say. I don't want to be alone but I don't want to be in there. It reminds me of things."

Somehow I smiled. "Am I really such a comfort?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you are." This only made my smile disappear. I returned my gaze to the ground, nervously hitting my ankles together. He was silent only a moment longer. "May I ask what your name is?"

"Yes," I replied quietly, looking up. "It is Anna."

He smiled, "Something easy."

I returned it. "Yes…what is yours?"

"Carwood Lipton." I fought to suppress a small laugh. "What, you think it's funny?"

"Yes." He laughed as well until he turned to look at the room again. The smile faded as he set eyes on the men, as did mine. Laughing was not appropriate for a time such as this, not when others were suffering, but it was so nice to see him happy, to see the pain leave if only for a moment.

"I had almost forgotten what the feeling of heat was," he whispered, not looking in my direction. "Coming in here, I thought it was too warm." A small smile appeared that quickly faded. "We lost a lot of guys out there…and not all of them are at an aid station. Sometimes I wonder if I'm one of them."

"It will be alright." I regretted it the moment I said it. How could I guarantee such a thing?

"Will it?" He asked, looking at me with skepticism, but underneath I could sense he was looking for hope.

"Yes. Not now but someday."

"…someday…" He murmured, facing the ground again. I feared he would never look up so I stood and took a seat next to him. I grabbed his hand and held it tight, not caring about the thoughts of others. He made no response but I knew he appreciated it. I stayed there the entire night and never let go.


End file.
